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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26541451">Can't give a Straight Answer if you're Gay</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/avtorSola/pseuds/avtorSola'>avtorSola</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Playing in other Sandboxes [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunter X Hunter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gon is tired, Injury, Killua POV, Killua's full of gay disaster energy, M/M, Playing in Other Sandboxes, b-day present ficlet, cut them some slack, killua's tied to a chair and Gon's hot, not entirely accurate to the AU since it belongs to a friend, present for a Loverly Human, rebel!Gon, soldier!Killua, vigilante x soldier AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:01:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26541451</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/avtorSola/pseuds/avtorSola</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken prisoner by the hot rebel you used to be friends with? Seduce him with a few terrible puns, maybe.<br/>It's guaranteed to work i swear-</p><p>AKA Killua gets tased, thrown in the back of a truck, and taken prisoner, yet he's still just focused on Gon being Hot. Alright then.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Playing in other Sandboxes [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1120764</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Can't give a Straight Answer if you're Gay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashsketch/gifts">trashsketch</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a B-day gift for the lovely human, @trashsketch!! I hope you had a wonderful birthday, and I hope you don't mind me playing in this wonderful sandbox of yours &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dull ache between his shoulderblades and pulsing down his side was making it difficult to sleep. But there wasn’t much he could do to alleviate it, not with both hands wrenched behind his back and bound with enough rope that the rough, grating texture bit through the thin material of his uniform sleeves to chafe his wrists. Really, their technique was perfect. The ropes had <em>just</em> slipped under the lip of his protective gauntlets. Irritating.</p><p>At the very least, nobody could tell if he was awake or asleep, given that he’d been blindfolded as soon as they’d bound his hands. And he hadn’t yet had to do anything more strenuous than lay still on the bed of the truck he’d been dragged into, since they’d also decided to tie his ankles together, making it impossible for him to walk anywhere. Even if he did manage to get some shut-eye, his captors would never know.</p><p>Not that was particularly important, or anything. At least, he didn’t think so. It wasn’t as if anyone was speaking to him at the moment.</p><p>He’d been scouring the edges of a town that had been reduced to rubble by an airstrike, searching for any possible members of the Rebellion, when he’d seen someone. Someone that he’d known, known from before the violence had started and the military – and his parents – had sunk their claws deep into him. Someone he’d…been friends with. Or more.</p><p>Gon Freecs had been staring at him through the iron sights of a heavy gun.</p><p>It was the first and only time that Killua cursed the dark-tinted glass of his helmet. If Gon had been able to see his face, it could have leveled the playing field. It would have caused the horrified hesitation to flicker across Gon’s face too, would have given enough time for them both to run away. Would have given them both time to- what, to bring in more troops? To cause more bloodshed? It wasn’t like Killua was particularly keen on doing his job in the first place, but could it have done <em>something</em> to prevent his current predicament? Maybe?</p><p>But anyway – Killua had frozen, for just long enough that Gon had time to pull the trigger.</p><p>The bullet had hit his body armor and was stopped dead, of course, but the force of the bullet strike had knocked him backward, ribs cracking under his shirt. It had hurt, enough to daze him. It had been all the time Gon – and the squad he was leading – had needed. By the time he’d gotten back to his feet and drawn his weapon, he’d been surrounded. Which, ordinarily, wouldn’t have been a problem. After all, he was the one in bulletproof body armor, not the rebels. But the brief lull had given Gon enough time to pull out a taser.</p><p>Even body armor couldn’t deflect electricity.</p><p>After that he’d been too out of it to fight back, and he’d been disarmed and tied up, his helmet pulled off while the world was still fuzzy with static. And now he was a prisoner, lying in the back of a truck with his old gym buddy sitting over him, brooding.</p><p>Not the best of reunions, that was for sure. It was unfortunate – Killua really had liked Gon.</p><p>At some point he must have dozed off from sheer boredom, never mind the burn of the electricity in his flesh or the cracked ribs aching under his bodysuit. Because the next time he became aware of his surroundings, there were soft voices nearby, and the low rumble of the truck’s engine had quieted, the vehicle no longer moving.</p><p>“-a prisoner of war?”</p><p>The soft voice was harsh but not unkind – sweet with steel, if Killua had to describe it accurately. It was coming from just outside the truck, if he had to guess, but for all he knew, his captors could be standing right above him and speaking.</p><p>“Yeah. I thought it might be useful to capture one and question them. Him.”</p><p>That was Gon’s wearied voice, low and rough around the edges. The was a brief lull in the conversation.</p><p>“I…I know him. From before.”</p><p>Gon had recognized him then, put his name with his face while he’d been collapsed, convulsing in the smoldering ash, the world a haze around him. His heart clenched in his chest. Somehow, despite everything…it was painful, that Gon had recognized him and taken him prisoner anyway. But then, it was also a relief. Being captured wasn’t his fault – Illumi and his father couldn’t leverage this against him and Alluka, when it came down to it. Prisoners of war didn’t ask to be captured, after all. This could be the perfect way for him to slip away, just for long enough that everything could change…</p><p>The soft voice came back then, thoughtful yet still hard around the edges.</p><p>“I see. You’ll lead on the interrogation then – it may be easier to convince him if there’s a familiar face around. Any injuries to note? I can send in a nurse to patch him up.”</p><p>“Hit him in the chest with a bullet and a taser. The stupid body armor repels it, but bullet impact usually causes a few fractures. And then- well, I don’t know if you can do anything for electrocution, really.”</p><p>There was something like a low snicker from the unfamiliar voice, the sweetness now uncomfortably saccharine. Maliciously sweet. Maybe not a person to cross.</p><p>Well, not like it mattered. He was a prisoner of war, and…it wasn’t as if the military hadn’t been committing war crimes, torturing their prisoners for information. Who was to say the rebels wouldn’t retaliate? Gravel crunched somewhere nearby, footsteps grinding loose stone beneath booted heels, and Killua bit the inside of his cheek. Surely Gon wouldn’t stoop low enough to…to resort to…</p><p>But in the same breath, before the war, Gon probably would have said the same about him. And yet…he may not have been responsible, but being a bystander was enough.</p><p>At the very least, he could be sure that Illumi would come for him eventually. Probably. Hopefully while there was still enough of him left to save. Hopefully while there was still enough left of him that <em>wanted </em>to be saved.</p><p>“Alright, get up.”</p><p>The hands grabbing at his shoulders startled him and he jerked away, only for someone to grab a fistful of his hair and pull him into a seated position, dragging him up the length of the truck bed. Killua yelped, eyes watering violently beneath the blindfold, the violent pull on his skull and scalp painfully strong.</p><p>“Hey! Carry him properly- Yes, <em>properly</em>, sergeant.”</p><p>The hand left his hair then, and without warning a strong pair of arms slid under his shoulders and pulled him into thin air, his weight suddenly entirely supported by the firm chest against his back. His ribs creaked painfully at the physical contact. He bit his lip on a groan.</p><p>“Easy.” The voice was Gon’s and his feet thudded hard onto the ground, the armored plating clinking sharply against what he guessed would be gravel. “Hey. Sergeant. Put some slack in the rope on his ankles.”</p><p> Killua hung loose in Gon’s grip, the faint sensation of hands gripping his calves pressing through his thick armor and grating against his skin. The ropes binding him loosened, then tightened viciously, then loosened slightly, and without warning Gon hauled him to his feet and slid an arm beneath his bound hands. Gon snagged a fistful of his thick white hair, but instead of pulling he pushed, pressing Killua’s head down and pulling his arms up at an awkward angle that forced him to stand half bent-over.</p><p>“Alright. There’s a stun gun trained on you, so don’t try anything funny. Metal armor is good for stopping bullets, but it seems to be completely ineffective against electricity. Start walking.”</p><p>Killua grit his teeth, but as Gon shoved him forward he started walking, taking short, stilted steps, his movement limited by the rope linking his feet together and the bent posture he was forced to assume. Honestly, he had to admire how thorough they were being. But each step caused his chest to twinge with pain, and the numbing throb that the stun gun had left in his flesh made his steps unsure and tottering, his breathing shallow.</p><p>He was glad Gon wasn’t walking quickly. Perhaps out of pity? Or respect for their previous friendship? Killua couldn’t be sure. Either way, he appreciated it.</p><p>It was really unfortunate that they were on opposite sides, honestly. The constant fighting had definitely helped Gon’s shoulders fill out, somehow, and he was somehow even cuter than Killua remembered from their gym days. The rugged look definitely suited him…</p><p>They rounded a corner of some kind, the gravel suddenly changing to hard, solid flooring – concrete, if Killua had to guess – and from there everything was a maze. They took so many turns, went up and down so many different flights of stairs, and backtracked so many times that by the end of it Killua had no idea where he’d started. Which, of course, was probably the point.</p><p>However, his chest was burning now, each breath painful and throbbing, and his arms were aching from Gon holding them in position for so long, so when they finally walked into a room of some kind and deposited him in a stiff wooden chair, he breathed a long, shallow sigh of relief.</p><p>Gon knelt down at his feet, the cold press of a blade at his ankle sawing through the ropes, and then he went around to the back of the chair and switched the rope out for the soft clink of steel handcuffs, chaining Killua’s hands behind the back of the chair. Then, carefully, the blindfold was pulled off. Killua blinked rapidly, the bright lights making his eyes water in protest.</p><p>The room was small and very sparsely furnished – for the most part, it was a concrete block with two chairs in it, a large mirrored window with iron bars bolted across it set in one wall, and a small pallet with a thin pillow and blanket nestled by a bucket with a lid in the far corner of the room. Clearly, it would be his prison cell for the time being. Not terrible, honestly. At least he had a blanket.</p><p>Gon sauntered into his vision and sat down in the other chair, his jacket splaying across the chair, a pistol glinting at his hip, the knife twirling between nimble fingers. Killua watched him for a moment, silent, wondering, wondering how the soft prickle of stubble edging Gon’s jaw would feel in his hands now. The quiet felt like a jet engine of silence.</p><p>And then a faint, rueful smile touched Gon’s mouth.</p><p>“Hey Killua. Guess I know why you didn’t shoot when you had the chance, huh?”</p><p>Ah. The capture. He could have taken the shot, sent Gon’s brain spattering against the nearby rubble. But he hadn’t done so, only staring, stricken by the appearance of his former friend.</p><p>“…What, a guy can’t be so stunned by beauty that he’s frozen for a minute?”</p><p>His mouth was moving before he could stop himself, and he watched as Gon’s eyebrows furrowed together, a line of dark petulance lowering on his forehead. But there was a touch of a glow there, a pleased tinge suppressed by Gon’s serious side, and Killua tried his absolute hardest not to grin at it.</p><p>Well. What <em>did </em>he have to lose at this point, anyway? Illumi would come, yes, but he’d just have to go back to his unit and hunt rebels and incinerate cities.  What would be the point of being uncooperative? And if he was going to be helpful, he might as well fluster a cute boy while he was at it too. Two birds, one stone.</p><p>“Don’t flatter me and imply that the people you’ve killed weren’t worth a second glance, Killua.” Gon snapped back, that dark petulance still broad across his brow. “What happened to you? The man I knew never would have joined-”</p><p>“We don’t <em>all</em> have the luxury of being able to choose, Gon,” Killua cut back, glaring, riled up for the first time. He tried to take a deep breath, wincing at the ache. “Anyway, if you must know, this is my first field assignment, and before this I was stuck in an office as a general’s aide.”</p><p>He smirked then, watching the confused anger on Gon’s face blur into something less enraged and more wary.</p><p>“Nice to see you again too, by the way. Do you greet all your friends with a taser?”</p><p>Gon’s glare sharpened, his jaw tightening.</p><p>“I’m liable to do it again,” he warned, hazel glare narrowing to cold amber slits. Killua had to bite his tongue on a laugh at the sight, slumping more completely in the chair he was tied to. Shock. Yeah, he’d blame the flirting on shock, and not Gon’s stupidly attractive face or the fact that he was tied to the chair.</p><p>“<em>Shocking</em> news, really.” He quipped, pleased by his own pun. Gon’s mouth twitched, his body jerking, and he lowered his head.</p><p>“Look, Killua, just…cooperate, give us straight answers, and we can exchange you in the next prisoner swap, no issues at all. Alright?”</p><p>He could almost feel the giggle climbing up his throat, and he bit his lip trying not to grin. Honestly. This was too easy.</p><p>“Well I really am sorry, but that’s gonna be impossible since I’m, you know, gay?” he said, and almost immediately Gon’s expression went flat with annoyance and he let out a long, low sigh.  Killua choked back the mirth, swallowing it as his former gym buddy seemed to deflate in front of his eyes. Injured and chained to a chair in a rebel prison cell, and he was positively giddy. Illumi would have him sent for a psych eval if word of this ever got out.</p><p>But when his family was practically holding his younger siblings hostage in return for him continuing the family tradition of military service? Being taken prisoner might just be the best thing that could have happened to his career.</p><p>And at the very least, it meant he couldn’t cause any harm while he was imprisoned.</p><p>Well. No harm to the rebels, anyway.</p><p>“Yeah, okay, I’m calling Bisky.”</p><p>“Wait- Gon!”</p>
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